


red right hand (that points me south)

by Disaster-Prince (Gay_as_fuck)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:35:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23145529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gay_as_fuck/pseuds/Disaster-Prince
Summary: “Oh. So you’re here.”
Kudos: 3





	red right hand (that points me south)

**Author's Note:**

> here's a fun game: what is this. I mean that honestly what the fuck have I written. at this point they are almost completely different characters. 
> 
> title comes from a say anything song

There had always been something about the way he spoke that pissed her off. It was the slow drawl of his letters, so entrenched in the place he grew up in it was impossible to separate them. She had moved from Houston for a reason, and still Texas had found her through him. 

There he was, reclining on her couch despite how she’d never let him in. She nearly dropped her bag when she caught sight of him, arm slung over the back of the couch and one of her cheap beers in hand. Unlike her bag, she was unable to keep a handle on the undignified squeak she let out upon seeing him. 

In her best attempt to cover up the mistake, she shifted her tone into something dismissive. 

“Oh. So you’re here.” 

He didn’t buy it. He turned to look at her, his brown eyes piercing through any attempt at deception. 

“Scared you didn’t I?” He teased, completely ignoring her statement. She set her purse upon its hook and didn’t respond. As she slipped off her shoes and made her way to the kitchen she caught sight of his expression, a smile smug and wide. 

She put together dinner, a simple dish of spaghetti and last night’s roast beef. It allowed her to forget the struggles of her workday. No, not forget, there was still a lot that needed fixing, but to perhaps ignore them for a few hours at least. 

“How was your day.” He asked from across the room, though there was no real interest in his voice. She pricked at his words. 

“It was fine, except for you.” He scoffed at that and she heard him readjust his position into what was probably wildly inappropriate for-

For whatever they were. 

She frowned at the thought. They weren’t friends and they sure as hell weren’t lovers. The closest thing she could think to call him was her companion, but even that didn’t seem wrong. He simply showed up around town, occasionally in her favorite places. As creepy as it was, she couldn’t shake the suspicion that no matter what anyone in town did they could not avoid running into Derek.

Maybe he didn’t show up sprawled out on other people’s couches. Or maybe he did. One thing she was sure of was that she would never find an answer. He was the kind of man one had to make assumptions about, no matter how wrong they were. 

She finished dinner and set the table, a small space wedged between the kitchen and the living room. He pulled himself up off the couch will a dramatic groan and took his place at the table. He barely fit into the chair. He was 6’1 and even his lean muscle made him too wide for the seat. She was once again left questioning what he did with his life. He could have been anything, from a mechanic to trust fund baby. 

He smiled his mocking smile while she examined him. She tore her eyes away immediately and just pushed the plate his way. 

They finished the beers, he got more. They finished dinner and she was left to clean up, only because she knew he wouldn’t do it himself. He settled down to watch TV as she scrubbed pasta sauce from the pot. She hummed a tune loud enough to make the sound on her busted TV set impossible to hear. 

He shot her a dirty look. She kept humming. By the time she had finished he had settled on “Shark Tank”, a show he knew she hated. 

She snatched the remote out of his pliant hands and swapped the channel over to some “Jersey Shore” garbage. He made a face and reached for the remote but she had already removed the batteries and chucked the body of the thing into the kitchen. 

It was not the type of stunt she would normally pull but his presence made her bold. She would have grumbled about the even vague possibility of him approaching anything like a good influence if it were any other day. But she had beer in her belly and had scored a victory over him, so she simply ignored the thought. 

30 minutes into watching his disgusted reactions of the life of the Jersey Shore he pulled a plain brown package out from under the couch. She’d never seen it before, so it had to have been him who put it there. As quickly as he had retrieved the package he drew a butterfly knife and cut the tape holding the box together. 

The contents of the box were quickly revealed as a treasure trove of eastern candy while the knife returned from whence it came. He pulled a small bag out, examined it for a moment, and tossed it to her. She had no clue what it was except for the elephant mascot, smiling innocently up at her. 

If he knew what it was he didn’t show it. She wondered briefly if he knew another language before deciding against it, she didn’t want to give him any credit that wasn’t due. 

She opened the bag as he found something clearly chocolatey to consume. The contents of the bag were small circular puffs of some sort. They left a thick residue of oil and dust on her fingers. She popped on in her mouth and was immediately thrown off by the taste. 

She could not place it, it sent her tongue tingling in the same way as chile powder but her breath sweetened. Nothing tasted like that, at least nothing she’d ever had before. 

She ate her dessert slowly, savoring each piece while trying to discern the flavor. She spared a quick look towards Derek who had given up his exaggerated facial expressions. Now that her attention was occupied by the food he had reverted to simply watching the show. 

For all he didn’t care for what people said he was blank when no one was looking. 

She was looking now, and they both knew it, so the apathy which had defined his face for a moment sped away. It was wrong to ask him about the blank look he reached sometimes. She’d never mentioned it to him, her stomach churning at the thought of it. 

The moment broke when the overdramatic plotline on the TV drew a grimace from him. 

“Careful,” she warned in her best impression of his mocking, “You’re being a tad hypocritical.” The character on screen seemed taken aback, so did Derek.

She smiled because he hadn’t meant it. He grumbled something and went back to his candy. Her attention returned once again to the TV. The dudebro was confessing his love to a lady with a spray tan who kissed him hard. The light flickered across Derek’s face, who only had in in him to look empty. 

She reached over to place a hand on his forearm, he didn’t shrug her off. Dust and oil still stuck to her fingers.


End file.
